


Rhymes and Stairs

by lirin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: Bilbo just couldn't think of an appropriate rhyme for "wood".





	Rhymes and Stairs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarSpray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/gifts).



Rivendell's library was quite nice, really. It wasn't anything like the library at Bag End—which Bilbo still found himself missing terribly when he thought about it too much—but as Elvish places went, it was not bad at all. The room was calm and quiet. Gentle breezes fluttered the curtains of the large windows. In the distance he could hear wind chimes and someone singing, but the soft sounds provided rather a pleasant backdrop for writing, without disturbing his relaxation in the slightest.

If anything, it was too relaxing. Bilbo realized with a start that he had written scarcely a dozen words since he had come to the library. If he was to finish this poem by supper, he would have to stop daydreaming and get to work. Now what was an appropriate rhyme for "wood"?

"Food?" he muttered. "No, no, no." The pronunciation was too different. "Hood?" Not unless he wanted to suddenly transition to describing their clothing. That is if they were even wearing hoods, which seemed unlikely. "Would? Oh, bother, bother, bother." Nothing seemed quite right. He returned to his original line. "They wandered in the Golden Wood…"

"…and under lofty mellyrn stood," someone said from the corner. Bilbo looked up in surprise. It was the Dúnadan who had spoken. Bilbo knew little about the Man, except that he was one of the only other non-elves here in Rivendell, and that he was serious and weather-worn and sharp-eyed. The sort of person who would be here in the library to study lore or maps, not to make foolish rhymes.

Perhaps he ought to apologize, at that, for interrupting the Dúnadan's study. Bilbo jumped to his feet. The Dúnadan stood as well. He was smiling. "Forgive me for interrupting," he said. "It was but a small thought. I quite like your poem—what I have overheard of it this afternoon, that is—and it sounded as if you had got stuck. The line I suggested just sprang into my head, but if I have overstepped then I beg forgiveness."

"Oh, no, no, no, I quite appreciate the suggestion," Bilbo said. "Yes, yes, I think that line would finish off the stanza nicely, and then I don't have to transition in the middle of the verse. But it is I who should be begging your forgiveness for interrupting your studies. This library is a place of quiet and I should have kept my peace."

The Dúnadan was still smiling. "You are right that this is a place of quiet, but I have no complaints on that score. Goluon, has, perhaps," he said, nodding to an Elf who was gazing at them—too polite for a glare, but certainly not a look of approbation. "I was about finished reading for today. If you want further conversation, perhaps you will join me on the veranda?"

"I could use the change of scenery," Bilbo replied. "I'm not accomplishing much in here, as I'm sure you've noticed. Perhaps a break will give me fresh perspective. You're sure you don't mind the intrusion?"

"I'm sure. And besides, I should like to get to know you better." He stood up and led the way to the door and out onto the veranda, and Bilbo followed. "I have seen you around now and again," the Dúnadan continued, "though I have never before had the leisure to ask for an introduction. But Gandalf speaks highly of you, and any friend of Gandalf's is a friend of mine."

"Likewise," Bilbo said with a bow. "You come here to Rivendell frequently, then? I know I've seen you from time to time, though never for very long. Shall we find chairs? I'm sure there must be some somewhere about, though I've no idea where Elrond keeps them."

"The stairs should suffice, unless you object to them," the Dúnadan said. He sat down on the bottom step that led off of the library veranda onto the sward that surrounded it, and stretched out his long legs. "I come to Rivendell when I can. Of late I have little time for leisure, and I spend much of my time in the Wild, but I still claim Rivendell as my home. I grew up here, actually. When my father died untimely, my mother brought me here to live."

"It's a good place," Bilbo said. He pulled his pipe out of his vest pocket and fumbled with his tobacco pouch. "Almost as beautiful as the Shire, in its own way."

The Dúnadan nodded. "There are some places in Middle-earth as beautiful as Rivendell, but few that outshine it. Lothlórien is the only place I know of. The mellyrn and elanor…I have never seen anything to compare."

"I've never seen a mallorn," Bilbo said. "I imagine they must be quite beautiful." He sighed. "I think my travelling days are over, though. I've seen many places, all along the Road and back again. I suppose Rivendell is as good a place as any in which to settle down. Care for some pipe-weed? It's Longbottom Leaf, fresh from the Shire. Brought in only a few days ago."

"I would, thank you," said the Dúnadan. "It was brought from the Shire only two days ago, I believe."

"Yes, yes, I believe that's so," Bilbo said. "You were present when it was delivered, then?"

"Better than that," he said with a smile. "I brought it to Rivendell myself. Not quite all the way from the Shire, for I only guard its bounds and do not enter them; but there are some hobbits who are not unwilling to trade with Men now and again, and it's generally rather simple to put one's hands on a pouch of the best if one knows where to go. I could have just bought some in Bree, but I must admit I'm partial to the leaf of the Southfarthing."

"There's none better," Bilbo said, puffing contentedly on his pipe. "But then you have seen the Shire only—what, two weeks or less ago? It seems a lifetime since I was there."

"Would you like news of it?" asked the Dúnadan, lighting his pipe in turn. "I have little news of import—as I should hope, for it were best that nothing but peace ever touched the Shire—but perhaps the gossip I overheard in the course of my purchasing will be of more interest and meaning to you than it was to me."

Bilbo smiled. "I can think of nothing I'd like better. Go ahead, Master Dúnadan, tell me every scrap of news you have from the Shire!"


End file.
